He's My Best Of All Best Friends
by Brooklyn Careana
Summary: I couldn't watch him die, I just couldn't."-Hinata "HOW WOULD YOU FEEL IF YOUR TEAMMATE DIED FOR YOU? IT'S ALL BECAUSE I'M TO WEAK!"-Kiba "She's not dead.Yet."-Shino "That's not possible, she's just a friend, I am NOT in love with Hinata......am I?"-Kiba


Protectiveness rushed through my adrenaline filled body. Such a fierce feeling of protectiveness, one that I had never previously felt; not for my cousin, my father, my mother, never had I felt this. I didn't stop to think, I had no time to think, time was running out; in a second I was there. I felt little surprise at how fast I had moved, likewise to my dominant emotion, I have never remembered moving that fast before.

Someone watching would have described me as being brave, usually I was. But this was not bravery, this was insanity. Bravery was doing something even though you were scared. I was not scared. There was not a moment in time to my brief session of insanity did I feel scared. Not once in my actions had I thought about them, I had done the first thing that popped into my brain without regret. Impulsiveness. No one would ever describe me as impulsive. Usually I scoffed upon the impulsiveness that resided in my impatient teammate. Never once had my definition of impulsive ever wavered from being a moronic idea, not until this moment at least. I had no remorse.

That is when I felt it. It hit me and it hit me hard, tearing apart my body, rippind at my very bones and muscles, soon I resembled a kitchen rag that had seen too many years. For a brief moment in time I felt no pain, but I could not escape my pain forever. It soared through my body at an emence pace. I could not think, I could not feel, that pain was too great. It was like a forest fire, blazing across the plain that was my body. I could feel myself gapping, but had no control of my actions. Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew that I had fallen to the ground, but the pain filled my senses, is was too much to be able to concentrate in anything else. I couldn't even concentrate long enough find my eyes, let alone go about opening them.

I felt something wet and slightly sticky covering my body, drenching it. It had a slight metallic scent to it. _Blood. _My clothes were starting to drag me down. The wetness infiltrating the dry clothes, making them heavier, dragging me down, down, down into the darkness and recesses of my mind that I have feared for so long.

My body started to thrash, breaking the eerie calmness and serenity my body looked to be in from someone watching. My arms were ripping and pulling trying to take out whatever had caused me so much pain, my legs kicking out randomly in almost every direction, my brain had taken to animalistic savagery to which I had no control. But with every inch I moved a wave of pain seared across my body. Even animals had the instinct of self preservation. So, my mind, fogged with confusion and pain, registered the fact that I was hurting myself to a farther extent and I immedietly stopped my seizure like movements.

I could feel the liquid dripping into my lungs. Slowly, ever so slowly, but yet so steadily, filling with the scarlet liquid. It was a deep pain, of that I was sure, but in comparision to the rest of my body's pain, it felt so enjoyable. I couldn't even care at the moment that at this rate I would die in a matter of minutes. Soon, all too soon, I realized with alarm, that my lungs were almost filled with blood. I started to gasp and cough to free myself of the wretched liquid.

Unlike earlier, I was scared. I recognized my impending,inevitable, and completely self provoked death. For a brief moment I was filled with happiness that I could feel the liquid seeping out of the crooks in my mouth. But then I realized, with horror, that the blood was filling my lungs faster than I could cough it out of my system. I was not aware that someone was holding my and screaming my name, I was in too much fear. Whoever said that dying was peaceful, never had a shinobi's knife thrust through there stomach.

My body was drowning in blood and my mind was drowning in fear. Even in death my shinobi side was kicking in, I started to accept death. I knew it was coming and there was nothing I could do to change that, so why fight it? I never said my shinobi way out loud, but part of my belief that a shinobi should do was accept death and be fearless of it when it comes. I always believed that death wasn't the ending of a life, mearly the last challenge that you can meet, and being a rather famous kunoich, I had met a lot of challenges.

So trying to maintain my pride, I stopped the ridiculous coughing. I still tried to fight the darkness that tried to drag me down, it was whispering seductively trying to pull me down into its depths. Trying to get me to _"come and play in the darkness."_ It was hard, it took all my strength to fight, strength wasn't something that came in a surpluss supply in the crippled body that I had. I would soon run out, but I was too mentally exhausted to care. I soon became tempted by the evil seducter. I was in too much pain and in the grand scheme of things, would it matter if I lived another few minutes? No, no it would not matter, in the end, dead is dead, there's no way around that. I thought about how calmly I could contemplate death in my futile half ass attempt to stay alive.

I gave up. Those words have never even crossed my mind, let alone come out of my mouth. I had never given up before, I was ashamed to admit that I had now.

I could hear my heart pounding in my ears. Pounding like horses' hooves hitting hard against new pavement. It was spedding up, raceing along like a dog in the last leg of a race. It pounded one last time, harder than ever before. And with a last gasping breath I said the words that would break the heart of my impulsive, impatient teammate, "I'm sorry."

I was sorry about so many things. Sorry, that I was leaving them. Sorry, that I could not help them finish the mission. Sorry, that they had cared about me, and now I am gone. Sorry, for whoever had to tell my dear cousin that I was dead. Sorry, for the person that had to tell my father that I was dead. I wish I could see the messengers face when my father told him that he wished that I would've died sooner.

Unbeknowest to me, there was one more thing I was supposed to be sorry for. I was not aware that my impulsive, impatient teammate had fallen head-over-heels in love with me. If I had known that he loved me, then I would have been sorry.

"Goodbye." I said so quietly that I was sure that no one but the person holding me to their chest would have heard.

And I let the black fog take over and succumbed to the darkness,


End file.
